


Plundered Plumage

by Quiddity



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Avian!Shiro, Escape!, Gen, Pirate AU, slave!Keith, some really mild blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiddity/pseuds/Quiddity
Summary: Something odd crashes to the deck of the ship during a sudden storm. An avian. More common than their siren cousins, but stil rarely seen and never captured. Until now. Captain Sendak wastes no time in securing the exhausted avian, Shiro, intent on handing him over to the Pirate King Zarkon for his own gain. However, Keith, sold to Zarkon as a slave as a child and forced into a life of piracy, just might have trouble sitting back and allowing that to happen.





	Plundered Plumage

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commissioned fic for @suddenlypants on tumblr. Thank you so much again!  
> Thanks also @ashcott for randomly being an expert on Historical Pirate Facts and answering all my really specific questions.

“Pull!”

Keith can barely hear Captain Sendak’s commands over the roar of wind and rain. His arms burn trying to get the ship under control in such bad conditions.

“Pull!”

The deck heaves and rolls beneath him. The sea explodes over the bow of the ship, black water washing ankle deep across the deck and off the sides in roaring falls.

“Pull, damn it!” He’s well beyond soaked, the palms of his hands are raw from pulling on the lines to keep the sail secure while others up on the mast tie it down. Fuck Sendak for thinking they could make some headway and side swipe the stupid thing.

Pidge’s voice filters down through the rain in an unintelligible cry. Then Matt’s crying out as well and Keith’s heart lurches thinking one of them has fallen or gotten hurt. He cranes his neck back, his arms shivering as he fights to hold the line tight. He squints against the rain, blinks water out of his eyes. Behind him, Hunk yelps and Keith nearly drops the line in shock.

Huge white wings beat at the lines halfway up the mast, but it can’t seem to extract itself between the tangle and the wind only pushes it further into them. Keith notices where one of the lines gets tangled in the long pinion feathers, then- He nearly loses his own grip on the line. It’s not just a big bird. It’s a winged man – and avian.

“Cut the lines!” Sendak calls. He makes a cutting motion with his hand. “Matt, you son of a bitch, cut the lines before he kills himself in them!” Keith can barely see through the rain and the darkness as Matt pulls his knife from his hip and saws at the lines pulled taut by the avian caught in them. The first one, and the avian swings. The second and he drops, one of the lines coiled painfully tight around the base of one of his wings. A third and the man drops to the deck like a stone, splashing in the water washing across the deck less than ten feet from him. The avian groans, his wings flapping weakly under the weight of the ropes and water and his own confusion.

Keith’s wonder is cut short when Sendak hooks his fingers into his loose leather collar and jerks him away. Hunk and Lance curse as they take over for him when he’s forced to let go of the line. “Come help me get him below deck before he drowns,” Sendak growls, shoving him towards the avian. Keith doesn’t even have time to question it. He just kneels, grabs a handful of the tangle where he thinks he’ll do the least damage to the avian’s wings, and hauls him up. He only comes up to the avian’s shoulder, and the waterlogged wings are nearly enough to push him over as the avian leans on him.

“We’re putting him in the brig. I’m not letting him wander around however he likes,” Sendak shouts over the pounding rain. The avian rouses a little from his exhausted stupor at that, but even Keith is strong enough to keep him where he is when he tries to push away.

“What-?” he says softly. But that’s apparently all the fight he has in him, because between him and Sendak, the biggest obstacle to getting him down the stairs, into the brig and locked behind the iron gate is piling so much wingspan into the small space. Keith leans against the iron bars to catch his breath when Sendak shoves the keys into his hand.

“Get him untangled, and when you’re done get back on deck to help us,” Sendak says. He leaves and Keith can’t help but feel like he’s somehow gotten lucky having to deal with this strange avian rather than being out in that rain for even an hour. He looks into the brig, the first time he's seen an avian up close.

The avian just lays there, and for all Keith knows he’s already asleep. He’s tall, and well built, dressed only in a pair of rough looking and loose pants. He’s got dark hair with a white forelock. His wings are the same color as his hair. Mostly white, but broken up with small black speckles with bigger black patches near the joints. Keith frowns at how pale he is, how the lines wrap tight around his wings and crumple some of his longer feathers. But he’s out, so Keith figures he can leave long enough to get him something to eat.

It only takes him a couple minutes to return with some grog, a piece of hard tack, and a small hunk of salted beef, but when he closes the door to the brig behind him, the avian rouses a little. He once again tries to beat his wings, but does little more than twitch them under the tangle of lines.

“Good morning,” Keith hums. He balances the food in one hand while he unlocks the iron door with the other. He slips in, shuts the door behind him, and hides the key in his pocket. He shuffles past the lines and wings, kneeling down near the avian’s shoulder. “It’s not often we see something like you here.” The avian blinks, then his eyes focus on the jug in Keith’s hands. He gets his arm under himself, and as he pushes himself up Keith realizes he’s missing the other one, the limb ending just below the shoulder.

“Please,” the avian pants. Keith uncorks the jug and helps hold it steady as he takes a long draw of the sweetened mix of water and rum. He swallows, gasps, and blinks around the dimly lit brig. His arm shakes trying to hold himself upright as the ship rolls over the rough waves outside. He looks down at himself and winces seeing the lines cutting into his wings. “What happened?” He asks.

“ _We_ are trying to get this ship under control after a storm blew over us at the last minute. Everyone was outside trying to get the sail secured when you swooped in from... I don't know where. You must not have seen the lines because you flew right into them and got tangled up. We had to cut you down, and we took you down here so...” Keith pauses, wondering what Sendak could be thinking of doing with this weakened oddity. “You didn't wash off the deck? We weren't sure how you would react when you woke up.” Keith says.

He groans as he shifts to sit up straighter, finding a balance when he crosses his legs under himself. Keith offers him the grog again and sets the food to the side. For a couple of seconds he just sits with the jug cradled in his lap, blinking down slowly at in and simply looking incredibly tired. Keith stands, bringing his hand back to the dagger he keeps secured at the small of his back. “While you rest, do you mind if I cut the lines off you? They look like they're weighing you down,” Keith says. When he nods, he starts to work.

He tries to untangle the mess without resorting to cutting them as much as he can. They're crucial to the ship's functions and he really, really doesn't want to be the poor bastard put in charge of knitting them back together. He tries his best to avoid the avian's wings as well, but that's something he can put off only for so long. He lays his hands high on the avian's back. Even though he's soaked, his skin is hot, almost feverish, and the muscles twtich under his touch, hard and knotted from overwork.

“You have a name? And what are you doing all the way out here?” Keith finally asks, once the avian has had time to take a few more sips and catch his breath. He cradles a length of line in his hand, lifts it away from one of the wings. His other hand brushes the wing itself, his fingers sinking into the feathers. They're wet from the rain, the white losing some of their luster, but Keith can only imagine how beautiful they would be once they dried out and had some proper care. He absently pets along the top edge, feels the unmistakeable firmness of well toned muscle and strong bone.

“Shiro,” the avian replies. Keith recognizes it as an Eastern word for the color white and finds that he's not surprised given his plumage. “And... I've been island hopping for awhile now. I thought I was headed to the coast, but I must have gotten turned around at some point,” he admits. Keith slips a length of line off one wing and Shiro simply lets it hang tiredly. Who even know how long he'd been flying non stop with no place to land and rest.

“Yeah, you've been going in the wrong direction. We're headed to St. Mary's Island off of Madagascar but that's still a few days off, if not more if this storm hasn't blown us off course,” Keith says. He gets one wing untangled and starts on the other. He pulls gently where a length of line has wrapped fully around the base of Shiro's wing. Shiro hisses, and instead of trying to untangle it, Keith saws through with his dagger. “You're a long way from home, aren't you?”

Shiro nods. Keith doesn't press for more when he doesn't elaborate and gingerly untangles the other wing. Shiro doesn't speak up again until Keith is piling up the lines outside the door and locking the metal gate of the brig.

“I'm okay staying here tonight,” he says. “I have to be. I know I can't fly any more right now. But... you'll let me go, won't you? Once the storm passes?” Keith stands at the door, the key to the brig hanging in his hand, and he realizes he's not entirely sure of the answer. What _did_ Sendak want with him?

“Yeah. I don't see why not,” Keith says. It feels like a lie He hangs up the key on the opposite wall. “Just try to rest for now. I have to go back on deck and help steady the ship.”

* * *

 

“Keith- Keith-- Oh my God, wake up-”

Keith is nearly dumped out of his hammock. He gasps, reaches out to steady himself and winds up gripping Lance's shoulder and nearly pulling them both to the deck trying to get to his feet too quickly. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and notices Lance's worried expression, the tiny smear of blood under his nose like he's had a nosebleed.

“I don't know what happened but your bird friend is in a fuss about something. He nearly broke my nose!” Lance says, motioning to his face. “He's out of it, and those wings of his hurt like a bitch. But listen, you've been the one taking care of him the last couple of days. You have to calm him down before Sendak skins all of us.” Keith's blood runs cold. He pushes past Lance and heads down the deck, past the stairs to the other end of the ship where the brig sits. It seems like a good third of the crew is gathered near the door, chatter running between them like a group of English ladies. Over that, he can hear Shiro yelling at someone, but he can't quite make out the words through the commotion.

He's stopped short when he sees Sendak. He's sitting on a crate, his expression one of near murder. Ulaz, the ship's surgeon, hovers over him, tending to one of his ears. It's bleeding down to his cheek from a small, ragged tear. Sendak catches sight of Keith and snarls. In one hand he holds one of his gold earrings.

“You have ten fucking minutes to get that bastard tied down or you're getting however many lashes it takes to leave you bedridden until we make port,” Sendak growls. Keith takes them and pushes through the crowd around the brig. Inside, he hears Matt yelp a split second before he's nearly bowled over in his retreat. The collar of his shirt is askew and loose where Shiro must have grabbed him.

“You said you would let me out!” Shiro's booming, furious voice echoes in the tiny room. He seems to fill the entire space behind the gate, his wings fluffed up and beating in his agitation. “You goddamn liar!” Keith doesn't say anything surprised at his own hurt. He looks around the room. Several crew members peek in at the doorway, eager for a show. Keith glances between the angry Shiro and the rest of the crew, then makes a shooing motion with his hand.

“Alright everyone,” Keith says. “Nothing interesting here. I'll uh... take care of this.” Most are content to merely groan and retreat, knowing perfectly well that a crowd watching will only agitate Shiro further. Hunk looks more worried than ever, even as he retreats at the end of the line. Keith hushes him with a hand motion.

“I'll try to talk him down. And if I need help, I'll call for you,” Keith says. Hunk frowns, gives him a look that clearly says he doesn't entirely believe him before he pulls the door closed.

“'I don't see why not?'” Shiro starts when Keith edges closer. “I guess you just forgot about the part where your captain plans on just handing me over to whoever this 'Pirate King' is?” Keith stops just a few steps away from gate. So that's what Sendak had planned for Shiro? He hadn't heard anything for certain, but Shiro still hadn't been released so Keith had had his suspicions. It wasn't like Sendak to get his hands on anything that could be rare or valuable and _not_ try to use it to further win himself Zarkon's favor. An avian, something so rarely seen and never caught, would make a perfect gift.

“Shiro-”

“I'm just some kind of trinket now? An oddity? I just happened to fall on this ship out of exhaustion and you expect me to let myself be handed over as a slave to a criminal?” Shiro's jaw bunches as he grinds his teeth, his cheeks bright with anger. “What the hell was I thinking? I bought that lie you gave me about me not hurting myself when I was out of it, and I've been _patient_ Keith. I've been waiting for this ship to get closer to shore so you would let me go on my way.”

“That's true but-” Shiro cuts him off again.

“I know you're a pirate, but I'd heard rumors that there was still some kind of honor among you. Well, I see that's a lie now, and if you think I'm just going to sit back and let this happen, you're all wrong,” Shiro growls lowly. Keith glances back at the door where he knows everyone is lingering, trying to listen in on what's happening, and steps even closer to the bars. Shiro seems to fluff up even more.

“Believe it or not, I know how you feel, okay?” Keith says low enough that no one can hear him, reaching up and brushing his fingers over the lion's head lock that rests in the hollow of his throat. “I'm not here by choice either but- but I really mean it when I say I'm not going to let them hand you over, okay? You just have to trust me a little bit longer and act like you're going along with this? Please?” Shiro glares, steps back a little from the bars.

“Why should I?” he asks, but he asks it low enough that the rest can't hear either, which Keith can only hope means he's not throwing the idea out just yet.

“Because I know what it's like to be a slave and I don't want to just sit back and let someone else have to learn what it's like too. I'll figure out how to get you away, but you have to give me just a little longer to think, Shiro. And that means, for now, you have to let me restrain you and you have to do a little acting,” Keith says. Shiro looks surpremely unhappy about this prospect, but it's less the unbridled rage from a few minutes earlier and more a sullen, repressed anger of someone who knows he's been beaten for the time being. Shiro's final answer is to step fully away from the gate and give Keith room to enter the cell with him. Keith takes up the length of rope someone had dropped to the floor in the earlier scuffle and unlocks the gate with a quiet thanks.

“This is the last time I'm choosing to trust you, Keith, Shiro says lowly. He tucks his wings tight against his back and holds them there as Keith pads the rope with some cloth to keep it from damaging his feathers before he loops the rope around Shiro several times, tying both his arm and his wings against his body.

“I know, thank you,” Keith sighs as he ties off the rope. He pats Shiro gently on the back, in the soft feathery patch between his wings. “I'll prove to you you can trust me. I just need time to think. We're still a couple days from St. Mary's but I'll come back tonight and we'll talk more. For now, just keep acting like I forced you into this... is it too tight?” Keith asks. Shiro shakes his head. Keith stands, locking the gate behind him before he opens the door to the brig. Sendak blocks his way. He glances over Keith's head to the avian who's sitting, bound, in the corner of his cell, and then back down to Keith.

“You certainly made that look easy,” Sendak hums. “How'd you do it? I never pinned you as a sweet talker.” Keith shrugs, shifts back and forth trying to find a way past Sendak.

“I don't know. I just pointed out that he was outmatched against the whole ship so there wasn't really a point in fighting us anymore. That, and we would stop giving him food or water until he let us restrain him,” Keith says. Sendak rumbles, grimaces when he shifts his injured ear a little.

“And? Do you think we should keep feeding him?”

“Yes? He didn't fight me much, I don't see why we shouldn't,” Keith says, glancing back at Shiro, who's still pretending to ignore him.

“Mn,” Sendak hums. “Thanks for the input, but I think I'll decide that in the end. He did nearly break Lance's nose.”

'And he ripped out one of your precious earrings,' Keith thinks, but he lets Sendak push past him into the brig and slips past the rest of the crew gathered around the door before they can stop and ask him too many questions. He needs to find somewhere to look busy and think.

* * *

 

“So your plan,” Shiro starts after forcing down a piece of hard tack. “is to just cut me loose on the dock and hope I get away?” Keith sighs and makes a show of focusing more on breaking off another bite sized piece instead of facing Shiro's skeptical expression head on. Hours curled up in the crow's nest had offered him no better plan.

“What more can there be? The pier is plenty long for you to have the space to fly away. There's cliffs up on the North side of the island for you to hide in where no one can find you. I don't exactly do this all the time, Shiro. I can't get you up on deck beforehand without someone noticing. There's just too many people here to see us,” he says. Shiro dips his head a little and Keith feeds him the hard tack. His nose wrinkles as he chews and swallows thickly, but he doesn't complain. He knows Keith is risking lashes by sneaking him food after Sendak had declared he'd be denied it until they made port.

“What about you?” Shiro's soft voice breaks the silence hanging between them. “I'm assuming everyone is going to be on the dock as well.” Keith shrugs and tries to play it off behind a sip of grog before he offers it to Shiro, who seems more than happy to have something to wash the hard tack down.

“What about me? I hide out around the stalls near the docks. I jump in the water. I get shot. Zarkon keeps me in the fort as his bitch because I can't be trusted to do anything else anymore. It's all the same.” Shiro's wings twitch where they're still tied against his back.

“It's _not_ all the same, Keith. I never expected you to even offer to help me like this, but now you're acting like it's just a matter of course if something bad happens to you. Why?” Shiro asks. He motions to the collar, and the lock at his throat.

“I was sold to Zarkon as a slave when I was... 12? 13? Because a guard caught me stealing a fish out of a crate they were packing for a ship in the English navy. I can't just sit back and let Sendak hand you over as a pet. So, for me it is whatever happens, happens,” Keith says. His past feels like such an obvious fact, something he and everyone else in the crew has just gotten used to, that the dawning understanding on Shiro's face catches him a little off guard, makes him feel awkward. He thinks Shiro isn't going to say anything about it so he busies himself cutting some salted beef into easily eaten pieces.

“Zanzibar.”

“What?” Keith asks.

“That's where I'm going to go if I can slip away from them,” Shiro says, motioning to the door, the rest of the crew on the ship. “If you can make it too, meet me there?” Keith sighs, his heart thudding thinking that maybe he could have a goal to aim for beyond 'not dying' after tomorrow evening. He holds out the beef and Shiro delicately takes it from him.

“I'll try.”

* * *

 

The sun is just touching the horizon when they finish securing the ship to the mooring at St. Mary's the next evening. Keith is hardly finished tying off his line before Sendak is on him and motioning below decks.

“The avian goes first. I don't want any of the crew running off for rum the second they hit ground and they not be here to handle him when I need them. You,” Sendak, says, prodding Keith in the chest. “Are in charge of making sure he gets to Zarkon without hurting himself or running off, got it?”

“Yessir,” Keith mutters. His heart hammers anxiously and he tries to edge around Sendak, but the captain catches his arm before he can slip away. “I'm going to be on the ship watching you, Keith. Anything funny I shoot him, then you.” He doesn't give Keith a chance to question it before he pushes him along.

“Oh thank God Sendak sent you down here,” Hunk says as Keith opens the door to the brig to find Hunk and Ulaz, the two biggest people on the ship besides Sendak, lingering near the gate. Hunk sighs nervously as Ulaz unlocks the gate and steps in. Shiro glances between all three of them as he stands, but even though he's tense and nervous, he allows Ulaz to lead him out of the cell and towards the stairs.

Ulaz and Hunk takes either of Shiro's shoulders and lead him up the stairs while Keith falls behind them all. They get on deck, and no one looks their way. No commotion, no suspicion. That is, aside from Sendak, who starts following Keith a few steps behind as they start down the gangway. Of course. Sendak wants to hand over Shiro himself.

They reach the steady expanse of the pier and Keith sees Shiro's shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath. Hunk squeezes his shoulder and Keith is almost sorry he's about to make him take a shot at one of them.

Halfway down the pier and Shiro twitches his wings, testing the tightness of the ropes the bind them against his back. He's starting to get nervous, but... not quite yet. Too far out on the pier and Keith is a dead man and the closer to shore they can get, the more obstacles he can hide behind.

Twenty feet from where the pier meets the dirt road and Sendak's presence is a tingling sensation along the entire length of Keith's back. He reaches back for his dagger, a quick motion practiced after years of wearing the weapon. He steps close to Shiro, tucks the blade in the small gap between Shiro's wings and jerks it back out. Then everything happens at once.

Shiro pushes his wings out as hard and fast as he can. Even after several days of being tied down, they're strong, and Shiro has been waiting tensely since they made land. He catches Hunk off guard and knocks him to the pier. Ulaz hangs on for a second, but then Shiro whirls away from him, flapping his powerful wings and pulling out of his hold. He lifts out of sight with two strong wing beats.

Then Sendak slams into Keith's back and knocks him to the pier so hard a splinter cuts into his cheek. But Shiro's off and Keith's managed to keep a grip on his dagger.

“You son of a bitch I knew it-” Sendak growls. He shoves his hand to the back of Keith's neck to hold him down. “Shoot him!” Sendak calls. Keith doesn't know if Sendak means shoot Shiro or shoot _him_ but he thinks to himself that he'll figure that out once they actually do it. Sendak rests his weight on him as he tries to stand and Keith grunts at the pressure. Then he tightens his grip on his knife and swings it behind himself.

With Sendak on top of him he can't see what he's doing but he knows the feel of stabbing into something fleshy and he recognizes the feeling of blood running over his fingers. It doesn't matter. Sendak groans in pain and lets off him enough that Keith can push his arms under himself and leap to his feet. Everyone's aiming their guns in the air and no one has a spare hand to stop him from running off the pier and taking a hard right into the shops.

Dust puffs up under his boots when he hits the road. He dodges past shop owners, shoppers, drunkards and guards and the commotion of what just happened follows after him like a wave. His blood sings, his heart pounds in his throat. Gunshots echo behind him and he feels almost like he's outrunning death.

* * *

 

Finding a hiding place wasn't particularly hard. There's lots of cliffs and patches of jungle outside of the city's sprawl and it would take a mix of madness and rage to send a search party after him when the sun sets and the wilds beyond the lantern's light becomes thick and dark as tar. Keith is only half convinced that Zarkon won't actually come after him, but he has to stop. He can't see and the risk of being found by a search party that might not be there is less than breaking his ankle and condemning himself to death by exposure. That first night is hard. He's tired, hungry, and he has no way of knowing how he's going to get to Zanzibar, or if Shiro's even going to make it to meet him there.

He winds up roughing it in the jungle for two or three days, until he finds a smuggler's ship docked on the opposite side of the thin island, in a cove that Zarkon's people rarely used. Keith waits, and he watches, and even when he's almost entirely sure that the smugglers aren't associated with Zarkon, he still approaches with a bundle of nerves in his stomach and his dagger in his hand. But they take pity on him. Blaytz, the captain, recognizes the lion's head lock on his collar as a mark of Zarkon's slaves and bursts into laughter. Turns out, they already know what's happened. The entire city is in a buzz over Keith and a lost avian. The price for a trip to Zanzibar is simple enough: Keith works as a member of the crew until they make land, and Keith hands over his collar so Blaytz can either trick Zarkon out of his ransom or goad him about his failures. Seems there's no love lost between the two and Blaytz makes good on his promise to deliver Keith to Zanzibar safely.

* * *

 

Zanzibar is a big island and with no other way to contact him, Keith decides that the best course of action is to just find the point closest to the African coast and simply make camp on the beach. Shiro would probably have to hop islands to the mainland and then make is way north as he could. He has no idea how far an avian can fly in a day. Faster than a ship? Slower? How often did he need to rest?

A week later, he lays in his roughly built lean to and watches through the smoke of his signal fire as the sky brightens with the sunrise behind him. He thinks that he feels more like an outcast now than he ever did as a slave. But he also feels more alive. Being a slave was always about behaving, but out here, on his own, he doesn't have to listen to anyone but himself. He can do whatever he likes. Lay here after he wakes up. Wander up and down the beach all morning and not worry about getting whipped just for enjoying himself. He doesn't have to live on a ship. Doesn't have to steal. Doesn't have take anyone else's punishments.

He has been lonely though. Keith sighs, pillows his head on his arm. He had already decided: one more week waiting and then he would move on. By then Shiro was either too injured to make it or they simply missed each other, and Keith would just have to find a city and make a life for himself. Try not to think about the odd hurt in his chest thinking that he wouldn't see Shiro again.

Something thuds into the sand. Heavy. Not like a seagull, but not coming down from the dunes behind him like a person either. Keith stiffens, lifts his head and reaches behind him for his dagger. He listens. A weighty, but muted shush of... feathers? Keith's heart lurches and he sits up to glance out of his shelter.

“There you are. I was starting to worry about you,” Shiro hums. He looks better. More well rested. Happier. Surely the complete opposite of Keith, who's been eating fish and crab for the past week. But Keith can't help but smile back as he climbs out of his shelter and takes in the sight of Shiro's wings, nearly glowing in the soft light of sunrise. He lingers a few steps away, but it's Shiro who reaches out and pulls him into a crushing hug. “Thank you,” Shiro murmurs into his hair, and Keith's skin tingles as he wraps his arms around Shiro's chest and hugs him back. When he pulls back, Shiro motions to his neck. “You look better without the collar.”

“I feel better,” Keith admits. “Thank you for convincing me to get rid of it. I... I think I'm going to try to find enough money to buy passage back to Europe. Do...” Keith pauses. Would he want to? Shiro had fallen into his life like an enigma. He didn't know the first thing about avians. But he wanted to stay with Shiro, and learn. “Do you want to come with me?”

Shiro grins brightly, and his answer carries none of the hesitation Keith feels. “I'd love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [@quiddid](http://quiddid.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
